


Tonight, we'll feel alive

by EeveeQu33n



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Female Peter Quill, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Peta Quill, implied mass murder, is that a tag?, not sure what else to tag, precanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EeveeQu33n/pseuds/EeveeQu33n
Summary: God I'm bad at summaries. time to cut and paste!. .the ravager not so subtly turned her stool to look Ronan up and down. After several moments of her blatant staring he let out a barely audible huff and gave her a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can I help you with something?”She tilted her head, biting her lower lip. “Just admiring the view.”Normally he would have responded with something along the lines of ‘if you’d like to keep your eyes I suggest you find something else to admire.’What came out instead was “And how is the view?”WHY DID HE SAY THAT HE HADN'T MEANT TO SAY THAT
Relationships: Peter Quill/Ronan the Accuser
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Tonight, we'll feel alive

**Author's Note:**

> I’m getting all of my Kree/Ronan knowledge from the movies and the wiki page, since my comic knowledge is very limited. This is precanon and very loosely based around my headcanon that it took YEARS of war/propaganda/personal loss/general Kree nonsense to push Ronan to the levels of crazy we see in the film.
> 
> Roan refers to Peta as Xandarian because I headcanon that there aren’t a lot of terrans in space and most people assume she's from Xandar so she just rolls with it.
> 
> Also this is my first gotg fic. So. Please be gentle? Even if it’s garbage???
> 
> All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from ‘Great Night’ by NEEDTOBREATHE. Not sure how well the song fits with this, but I had it on loop while writing and editing.

…

…

…

For the good of all Kree.

That’s what he’d been taught by his family, his government, his culture, —the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Wars were fought for the glory and honor of the Empire, to expand their influence, to further Kree evolution, to bring this massively chaotic universe under some semblance of control.

For the good of all Kree.

_(But what about non-Kree?)_

Non- Kree beings were lesser, they meant nothing if they weren’t useful to the Kree –and most of them weren’t. If an entire planet fell because they refused to submit, then so be it.

Why, then, did his heart feel so heavy? Why did thinking about what he’d just done cause bile to rise in his throat? Why did it seem like even after hours of scrubbing, blood was still on his hands?

_(Because it was.)_

They did what they must, for the good of all Kree.

_(And if the screams of thousands of innocents rang in his ears from now until he joined the Collective, then so be it.)_

. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A Xandarian woman clad in Ravager red collapsed on the stool next to him. “Yo, Val! One Pastel Fantasy with a shot of Midnight Amethyst, por favor!”

“Enjoying yourself?” the bartender asked, pouring something pink into a glass rimmed with krylorian sugar. A thicker purple liquid was added, the two colors swirling together instead of properly mixing.

“You know it!” she crowed, giving them a toothy smile.

“”Just don’t overdo it, girlie – I don’t want Yondu coming for my head if you get hurt under my roof.”

“Yondu can suck my dick, he don’t own me,” she scoffed, one leg crossed over the other. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah? I’ll remember that next time I have to pitch in bail money. First one’s on the house, try to stay out of trouble.”

All that got them was a laugh. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

During all of this the bartender had been not so subtly watching Ronan – probably worried that the kree would try and harm her.

Ronan huffed and pointedly looked away. Yes, he’d normally be disgusted by a Xandarian being this close to him, but right now he was tired, he was more than a little drunk, and he really, truly _didn’t give a shit._

As soon as the bartender – Val, she’d called them -- moved on to the next customer, the ravager not so subtly turned her stool to look Ronan up and down. After several moments of her blatant staring he let out a barely audible huff and gave her a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can I help you with something?”

Just because he was tolerating her sitting near him didn’t mean he wanted to interact with her.

She tilted her head, biting her lower lip. “Just admiring the view.”

Normally he would have responded with something along the lines of ‘if you’d like to keep your eyes I suggest you find something else to admire.’

What came out instead was “And how is the view?”

WHY DID HE SAY THAT HE HADNT MEANT TO SAY THAT

Her eyes lit up, taking Ronan’s words as an invitation he hadn’t planned on giving. “As pretty as a sunrise on Pandora and hotter than high noon on Tatooine.”

Ronan didn’t know either of those places.

“Aaaaaand judging by that hundred yard stare I’m guessing you have no idea where that is. Ugh,” she muttered. “That was my ONE good pickup line! God, now I feel like a total dweeb,” she muttered, lips pouting slightly.

He thought that was then end of it.

He was wrong.

The Xandarian cleared her throat and tried to act like she hadn’t just been pouting like a child who wasn’t getting her way. “So, what’s a gorgeous hunk of Kree like you doing in a place like this?”

He took a breath.

In.

Out.

He meant to tell her, in a proper Kree fashion, to fuck off. What came out instead was “You know I’m Kree, yet you still persist.”

“Yeah, because you’re a _snack_. Besides, you look like you could use some company.”

“What makes you think that I’m interested in anything you have to offer?”

“You wouldn’t be talking to me if you weren’t.’

“I don’t recall starting this conversation.”

“And you haven’t ended it, either.”

“I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“You’re very irritating, do you know that?”

“Hmm, and you’re gorgeous.” Her foot brushed his calf. She bit her lower lip again, leaning closer.

“Persistent, too,” he muttered. “You realize you’re actively trying to proposition the Nova Empire’s oldest enemy, yes?”

“Well, you’re not _my_ enemy.”

“I could destroy you with only a finger.” As soon as the words were out Ronan realized exactly how that would sound to the flirty Xandarian woman trying to get him into her bed.

Oops.

She was back to staring at him like he was a ripe yarrow root, grinning with her tongue poking out from between her teeth. “See, now, that’s not a reaction that says ‘fuck off.’ That makes me think that you don’t think I’m nearly as annoying as you’d like me think I am, and that you’re more interested in me than you want me to think you are.”

“I think the alcohol is _finally_ taking effect, I only caught about half of that.”

“Oh, I like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Well, maybe we can change that -- Peta Quill, people call me Star Queen.”

“Nobody calls you that,” the bartender said on his way past.

“Fuck off, nobody asked you!” She snarled before clearing her throat and turning her attention back to Ronan. “You got a name? Or should I just call you ‘Sexy Kree with the pretty eyes that I met on my birthday?’ Cuz lemme tell you, that’s a mouthful—and not the kind I was hoping for tonight.”

Well, now he was imagining her with her mouth full of something else – and on that note, it was definitely time to switch to water. Ancestors help him, he needed her to leave him alone, before he did something he’d regret.

“My name is Ronan.”

Like that.

Years of formal education and training and war were hissing in his mind, sounding suspiciously like his father. _She’s Xandarian, she’s dirt beneath your boot, not worth the air she breathes._

“Ronan,” she said slowly, as if testing the sound. “Huh. That’s different –in a good way, though. I like it.”

_You sully your heritage every second she lives in your presence_.

That hissing little voice was starting to grate on his nerves, so he ordered two more of whatever cavity inducing swill she’d been drinking just to spite it. “Buying a woman a drink on her birthday is tradition, yes? Though I’m not sure this qualifies.” He eyed the newly placed glass in front of him as if it was going to bite him.

“Too much sugar, sugar?” she teased, taking a sip of her own.

“This is nothing BUT sugar,” he bit out after a tentative sip, trying not to cough. There was almost no alcohol taste, so someone would be inclined to keep drinking even after they’d hit their limit.

Ronan had a very high limit. He downed the rest of the syrupy liquid, eyes shut tight as it burned his throat. It coated his mouth, warmed his insides, and loosened his tongue.

“My job, my duty to my people, has pushed me to do terrible things, to people who don’t deserve it, and today I did something that might haunt me for the rest of my life.” Images and sounds flashed in his mind – ash and blood clogging his airways and stinging his eyes. A woman, begging, crying, trying to protect the much smaller body that was eventually torn from her arms. Wide cyan eyes staring up, up, up at him, as a blaster was held between them. “I came here to try and forget, if only for a moment, but I don’t think I ever will.”

“Yeesh, this is getting intense,” she muttered, and he was sure she didn’t realize how keen Kree hearing was. “Yeesh. Okay, so you fucked up, and now you don’t know where to go from here. I get that, really -- I’ve fucked up a lot in my life so far, so I know how much it sucks.”

Ronan decided against telling her just how badly he’d fucked up.

“But,” she continued, “One thing I’ve learned in this shit existence is that sometimes you need to just . . . move on.”

Oh he _definitely_ wasn’t telling her.

“You can’t turn the clock back and fix it, but what you _can_ do is decide what happens next.” She put her empty glass down and stood up, facing him completely. “So, you have to ask yourself ‘what happens next?’”

Words died in his throat.

_‘She is your enemy’_ the voice hissed again, louder than before.

Ronan looked at the woman standing in front of him – pale freckled cheeks flushed from alcohol, strawberry blonde hair pulled into a loose braid, eyes and lips and nails painted black, noticeable curves wrapped in black lace and red leather, blue eyes shining as bright as Hala and her moons.

She didn’t look like his enemy.

“I think I would very much like to kiss you,” He found himself saying, leaning towards her.

She didn’t pull away.

Val interrupted them shortly after with a scathing “Fucking hell, you two, get a room.”

So they did.

  * \- - - - - - - - - -



Yondu was on Peta’s ass as soon as she left the hotel. She answered the call hands free, tying her hair back into its braid. “Where the hell you at, girlie?” His rough voice barked. “Meetin’ time’s in less than an hour.”

“Chill out, old man, I’ll be there on time.”

“You better . . . the hell’s wrong with your voice? You been gargling with cement or somethin’?”

Her throat felt raw, her voice was nearly gone – choking on Kree dick all night would do that to you. She wasn’t gonna tell Yondu that, though it _would_ be funny to watch his face turn purple. “Or somethin’,” she muttered.

“Quill I’m warning you now if you screw me outta this deal I swear I’m gonna –“

“Jesus fuck, Yondu, chill out! Seriously! I didn’t screw you over, okay, I’m literally on my way back to the Milano right now and I’ll have your goober at the meeting spot before you can say ‘quasi-hammer’.” She hung up on him before he could say anything else, stopping for a minute to stretch her arms above her head.

God that kree did a number on her. She was gonna be hurting for a while. So worth it, though -- she had masturbation material that was gonna last her YEARS.

Peta allowed herself to think about Ronan one last time. When she’d woken up and gathered her clothes, she’d glanced at the sleeping kree and marveled at just how different he looked when that pretty face of his wasn’t twisted with anger and guilt.

Ronan was her proof that not all kree were bloodthirsty warmongers, and she was glad she’d met at least one kree that didn’t blindly follow their empire’s bullshit.

Peta thought about gentle touches and a soft, low voice calling her beautiful, crooning her name like a prayer, acting like she was special.

Like she was worth something.

Peta took a breath, and then she tucked all of those memories away, deep inside but never forgotten, before continuing her walk, humming quietly all the way back to the Milano.

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Peta was gone when Ronan woke up. ‘Thanks for the ride, gorgeous,’ was written on his arm in bright pink ink.

_It’s better that she’s gone. She’s Xandarian. She’s a Ravager. If you ever see her again, it’ll be right before her execution._

He blamed the alcohol for the nausea that bubbled up his throat, and tried very hard not to think about Peta Quill’s head beneath the Supreme Accuser’s hammer

He barely made it to the bathroom before heaving.

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Years later, As Peta stood on the bridge of the Dark Aster and watched Ronan the Accuser take a direct hit from a weapon that should have killed him and _then stand back up_ , she realized why this batshit crazy kree’s name had sounded so familiar.

Her last words before a burst of purple light sent her flying back was “Oh, you’ve _got_ to be _shitting_ me!”




**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, I did it. I FINISHED it. This has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS, I never thought it would see the light of day. Y’all can thank the Staraccuser discord for this one, they helped me finish the damn thing.
> 
> I may or may not write some nsfw for this fic and then a sequel set during the first movie. Idk yet. No promises.


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